This painting represents the violence and flow of fire and ice during the Mesozoic age. These "Scars In The Earth" form the deep basalt canyon and the beautiful valley that holds the rushing waters of the Washougal River in Washington State.  It is the first in a series of paintings entitled "Across Rushing Waters - a history of the Washougal River and Cape Horn.

I've been a traditional artist working in a realistic style but recently I spread my wings and have been trying my hand at abstract painting.  I have to admit that I haven't been a huge fan of the genre.  Probably because I didn't understand it's purpose or meaning.  However, with this painting I think I discovered something about abstract art, and about myself.  I had covered another painting I had done with gesso because I discovered that my source material was compromised and I wouldn't be able to sell it.  I guess I felt a bit ambivalent towards it because I thought what the heck, lets play.  I didn't really have any thoughts other than composition and color when I began but with each stroke of my brush it began to take on a life of it's own and I began to see where it was leading me.  I followed, willingly, enchanted by the power of these miniscule bits of ground pigment, dancing across my canvas.  It sang a song to me that said, "Come.  See. these few moments, when there are still wisps of night in the morning sky, the darkness above resisting, the shadows below pushing back against the light.  Then suddenly, the sun breaks the horizon and the victorious dawn, triumphantly exclaims, "Carpe Diem"!"

What did I discover about myself you ask?  God gave me a brilliant imagination.  Not as brilliant as the dawn, for sure, but I can do more than merely copy His work.  

I grew up in Cape Horn, Washington, a small farming community approximately fifteen miles east of Washougal, in the Columbia Gorge National Scenic Area. My immediate and extended family all lived on our grandparents 80 acre cow farm, much of which was covered with old growth forest.  I spent countless hours in the woods and fields and all of my summers playing in Canyon Creek. The underground creek breaks the earth's crust on a steep hill above our farm and continues through the property to empty into the Washougal river about three miles away. As a girl, the lullaby of Canyon Creek, sang me to sleep every night and later, our little creek became part of the northern boundary for the Gorge Scenic Area.  I belong there. I feel akin to it, the Gorge, I'm a part of it and it of me. 

It's easy to take it for granted when you live here. I suppose it's the same for people who live near the Grand Canyon or Niagara Falls.  Yet, the spectacular view of the Columbia River Gorge from Cape Horn can still make me pull over to take a photograph or just to look and breathe it in.  Natural beauty such as the Gorge provides has the power to make time stand still, if only for a moment, the earth stops spinning and it's troubles and cares slip away and you just breath it in.  If the moment lasts long enough you go beyond merely looking, you begin to embrace the life of it through all of your senses.  If you do it long enough and often enough you can take it with you when you leave.  

There are many well maintained hiking trails on both sides of the deep scar the river cut through the foothills of the Cascade Mountain Range on it's way to the Pacific Ocean.  One of my favorite's is the Eagle Creek Trail #440 on the Oregon side where Punchbowl Falls can be found only a few miles from the trail head.  The falls aren't grand but it's relentless falling has created a very large bowl shaped pool enclosed by high basalt cliffs clothed in multi-colored lichen, moss, and ancient ferns, flowers, and grasses.  When it's not too crowded it's a peaceful place where the rounded rocks of the creekbed can be seen through crystal clear water. Sadly, the trail is closed until further notice following the terrible fire in 2017.  I hope, dear reader, that you have an opportunity to visit it someday.  Until you do, please enjoy my version of it's loveliness.